


Mythos

by inkforhumanhands



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Foggy has an interesting side hobby, Gen, Humor, Rumors, What do you mean Daredevil can't turn into a bat?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkforhumanhands/pseuds/inkforhumanhands
Summary: When you lived in the night, only flitting out of the shadows long enough to beat the absolute shit out of those who deserved it, the truth tended to get a bit muffled. First the dark stifled it, and then blow by bloody blow it got shaped back up into something that could be told. And that was the thing about people: they sure loved to talk.Rumors abound about Daredevil and Karen tries to figure out their origin.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Mythos

**Author's Note:**

> a lot of the "myths" about Daredevil were thought up by @mayormurdock on tumblr, so I owe them my thanks!

When you lived in the night, only flitting out of the shadows long enough to beat the absolute shit out of those who deserved it, the truth tended to get a bit muffled. First the dark stifled it, and then blow by bloody blow it got shaped back up into something that could be told. And that was the thing about people: they sure loved to talk.

The mythos might have started out innocuous enough; after all, the lowlifes routinely getting their asses handed to them weren’t exactly the creative type. It was more about excuses and damaged reputations. Daredevil had a sixth sense about crimes in progress. It didn’t matter where or the type; give him a minute and he’d show. And if you were lucky enough to pull off your stunt it only meant he was already roughing up some other unlucky bastard across town.

But gradually, even among the skeptics Daredevil lost his humanity to become something decidedly other. He didn’t merely sense your crimes; he could see evidence of every sin you’d ever committed floating around you like some sort of sick halo. Glow too bright and you were due to be punished. He was a bogeyman to criminals and kids with deceitful parents alike.

Devil ceased to be a moniker and evolved into a species of demon complete with an unholy mission. Some amateur back alley biologists claimed the daredevil could conjure hellfire and release it through the palms of his hands. Others alleged he was the selfsame snake from the garden of Eden, first tempting into sin the very ones he disciplined. His relationship to God was contentious. Was he God’s soldier meting out justice or an officer of Hell inflicting early abuse on those already locked down for entry? 

Some accounts spun a tale less black and white. In the version that came to be regarded by most as canon, Daredevil had been one of the first and most wicked of men. His crimes were so great and so numerous that God had cursed him with the inability to rest or to die until he had passed his brand of judgment upon all those deserving of it. The staff of Metro City General hypothesized—not incorrectly—that if there were this many who deserved it in just Hell’s Kitchen, he might well have to wait out the apocalypse to get in a good nap.

* * *

Karen Page wasn’t sure what they called this kind of reporting, somewhere halfway between a fluff piece and investigative journalism, but so far it had proven more difficult than she’d anticipated. After all, it’s no easy thing to track down the genesis of several intertwining rumors. Even pinning down Turk Barrett to ask him some questions was like playing a life-sized game of whack-a-mole; by the time she’d get his location out of someone he’d have already moved on to somewhere new. But now, at last, she’d not only found him but convinced him to tell her what he knew.

Mostly Karen had already heard some version or other of what Turk told her, but he seemed particularly fixated on the reason Daredevil wore a mask. “You ever get a good look at it?” He leaned in towards her conspiratorially. “You can’t see his eyes through it. And I’m not talking about like with sunglasses. The mask is solid.”

Karen cut him off. “But then he wouldn’t be able to see.” She knew, of course, that he couldn’t and that it didn’t matter anyway, but Turk couldn’t know that.

Turk shrugged. “You’re making the mistake of thinking about him like he’s human.”

“Well, isn’t he?”

“Not enough that it matters. Anyway, you’re asking the wrong question. It’s not about what gets in through the mask; it’s about what it stops from getting out.”

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “You’d better pray he keeps that mask on. ‘Cause if he looks you straight in the eyes you can kiss your soul goodbye.” His eyes were sincere.

Karen thanked him for his time and was just about to pack up her things when Turk called out to her from the door.

“Hey, lady!”

She frowned at the epithet, but invited him to continue.

“There’s one guy who might be able to tell you more. Hangs out at Josie’s sometimes. Says he knows the Devil personally.”

Karen raised an eyebrow. “You got a name for me?”

“Ask around for Guts.”

* * *

As it turned out, Karen didn’t have to do much asking around. The name Turk had given her wasn’t the one she expected, but between the tipoff about Josie’s and a description from someone else of “that lawyer who hangs out with the blind guy,” she took less of a jump and more of a baby step to a certain conclusion. Only one other person would have such a vested interest in keeping Matt’s mask _on_.

What did take a bit more effort was catching old Guts in action. She took to staking out Josie’s almost nightly, having semi-convinced herself that simply calling him to ask about his plans would cause Guts to stay home and someone else to come in his place. But it had been worth it, she thought on the night he finally showed his face.

She had competently disguised herself (a dark wig with bangs and an oversized hoodie with the hood pulled up) and sat in a corner away from the light but not too far as to be unable to eavesdrop. It was a blessing that Foggy had a tendency to shout when he was drunk, and, she reflected, that it took him less time to get to that point than he thought it did.

“Did you KNOW.” Foggy “Guts” Nelson burped and patted a tough-looking biker guy on the shoulder. “Daredevil can actually turn into a motherfucking _bat_?”

The guy looked at him like he had three heads, and Karen smothered a giggle with the back of her hand.

“No, I’m serious. Look at me in the eyes. I won’t steal your soul like he would. Look at my eyes. I’m dead serious. I’ve _seen_ him do it. You know I know him, right? We put away Fisk together and he showed me how he transforms into a bat.”

Foggy’s audience had moved away partway through his insanity-tinged monologue and gone to join his group of friends, shaking his head. For a moment, Karen couldn’t see how any of the ideas Foggy had purportedly originated had spread past the confines of this bar and gone on to gain credence. But then, she overheard the biker saying, “Get a load of this. You won’t believe what that idiot just said to me…,” and she thought maybe she did know after all. A little well-intentioned chaos goes a long way.

This assignment might not be Pulitzer-worthy, but it sure was going to be fun to write up and then read to Matt afterward.


End file.
